Bluegirls Come In Every Size
by MrsMess
Summary: Post-revival, and written immediately after my first viewing in 2016, the desperation for a literati endgame tangible. It was meant as a one-shot, but grew to five fairly independent chapters (in the correct order unlike on Ao3 ;)
1. Chapter 1

[JESS]

The diner's flooded in early evening light. It's that time of day when most people are at home having dinner, and the door chimes as the last customer leaves. Jess sits with a cup of long cold coffee, and book open on the table in front of him while waiting for Ceasar to finish the take-away order he placed a few minutes ago. Luke sits opposite him, eyes darting between him and the view outside the window. This has been going on for a few minutes, longer if you count all the small talk his uncle's been trying to mask as a conversation. Jess is annoyed and tired from a night of bad sleep at Liz' house, their uncomfortable futon and Doula waking him up early in collaboration. It's May and this is how it's been for him since fall. He's used to the vagabond thing since youth, living out of an army bag. But lately it feels different. It's exhausting but he can't stay put. In Stars Hollow he's anxious, switching between sleeping in the apartment above the diner, on the couch at Luke's and Lorelai's or at Liz' and TJ's. But as soon as he's back at work in his own apartment he's looking for excuses to come back. It's unnerving. He might have been able to convince himself that it's just in his blood, maybe that piece of Jimmy becoming a real part of him at this point, if he hadn't already known why he feels like this. He sighs, smacks the book closed, and lifts his head with emphasis, looking at Luke.

"Something on your mind?" He inquires, even if he already sort of knows what this is going to be about. Luke meets his eyes reluctantly at first, then defiantly. He smirks.

"So, you're here a lot lately."

"Sorry."

"I'm just saying, six times in the same amount of months... That's an increase of what, five hundred percent in comparison to-"

"Your math's off," Jess interrupts.

"The last thirty years of my flawless tax returns might disagree with you."

"Jeez, would you get to the point already?"

"I'm just wondering what inspired this... Let's see, what's changed lately?" Luke taps his chin.

"Would you stop beating around the bush?"

Luke looks at him and pauses for a second, then picks it up again, swinging. "Just wondering if you've helped baby proof some neighbor's house lately, or attended any town meetings, maybe got rooked into picking up indian take-away in subfreezing temperatures?"

The echo of Jess' own phrasing sets anger and shame boiling in his chest. "Shut up, will you?"

"Jess, if this is about her-"

He stands up and grabs his jacket, the motion silencing Luke. "Look. I appreciate the concern, if that's what this is, but you don't have to worry about this. I-"

He stops, trying to get his temper and tone under control. He stares at the floor, it's the only way to get the words out. "I'm not gonna do this your way. I know how I feel and I'm gonna let her know too, I'm just... working up to it. And if you could stop acting all tickled about it I'd be grateful."

He looks at his uncle who sits silently.

"The timing hasn't exactly been great." He continues. "She's eight months pregnant, not sure if that's the best time to consider starting dating."

Luke stands up as well and walks over to the counter to clear off a few remaining coffee cups. Jess follows his example, waiting for some sort of response.

"Any idea how Rory feels about this?" Luke asks.

"If I had do you think I'd be darting all over the place?"

Luke looks away. Jess swears under his breath, too harsh, again.

"Sorry." He says. "We're... close. Friends. But we haven't talked about any of that."

Luke opens his mouth and closes it again before speaking. "Have you considered the possibility of... rejection?"

"In different kinds of ways in one hundred percent of my imagined scenarios." Jess smiles grimly. "Still gotta do it though."

"And have you considered that if she does want you, you'll raise another man's child? Could you do that?"

Jess sets down a cup with a distinct bang and glares at Luke. "Have we met?" He snaps. "Do you really think that matters to me?"

"I'm just sayin', it takes a special kind of person to do it." Luke lectures.

"Sure does." Jess affirms and lifts an eyebrow at his uncle who looks startled at his words. "Besides," he continues. "Nothing in my life has ever been normal. No reason for it to start now."

"Okay", Luke begins after a couple of minutes. "You should do things your way, and I'll stop hounding you about it..."

"But...?"

Luke looks straight at him. "If you think timing is bad now, wait 'til the baby gets here. Those things are time consumers if anything and she's gonna be struggling to make everything work."

"So... I should back off, is that what you're saying?" Jess says, chest tight.

"No. Don't put words in my mouth."Luke retorts, sternly. He pauses, and seems lost in thought for a moment, then continues, subdued. "When Lorelai moved here, and Rory was a baby... Well, if you think she's intense now, that's nothing compared to then. And always busy busy busy, hands full, and if I hadn't waited... and done things "my way"… I could've maybe, made a real difference in her life back then."

"Luke-"

"My point is; there's never gonna be a perfect time. Just maybe a slightly less bad one."

They stare at each other in silence.

"Your food's ready!" Ceasar calls.

Jess suppresses a "Thank God!" and fetches the bag from the kitchen.

"So you're going over there?" Luke asks.

"Yup. We're watching some show. The food order's mainly hers."

"I don't have a lot of things on my menu that she should eat, let me check-"

Jess jerks the bag away. "Oh would you let it be! You're driving her crazy. French fries won't hurt the baby."

Luke glares at him, resigned. "Fine! Be it on your own heads. Will I see you tomorrow?"

"Maybe. I'm going back, but I'll crash at the apartment tonight if that's okay. And if we don't I'll see you in two weeks."

Luke pulls him into a hug. "Okay. See you."

[RORY]

Rory wanders around the living room waiting for Jess. If she sits down she'll most certainly be down for the evening. She's hit the point in her pregnancy where she's only able to sleep on her left side, and that makes her neck and back ache from the lack of variation. Nearly insatiable hunger is another side effect that's jammed in between last month's second wave of nausea and what she hears will be the main feature of the final month; inability to eat due to belly full of baby™. And that's another thing; she's surrounded by baby-experts. Lorelai "I told you so" Gilmore, Lane "I birthed twins" Kim and Paris "the Pablo Escobar of the fertility world" Geller. She can't complain about anything without being bombarded with non-sequitur advice, passive-aggressive coddling, or weird, dehumanizing anecdotes. Jess is the only one who doesn't seem to feel the need to talk at her lately. He listens, helps with practicalities and when he talks it usually takes her mind off her troubles. When he's turned up over the years his presence has always been helpful but brief. Since she got pregnant those turn-ups have gotten more frequent and less brief. He lingers. In Stars Hollow as well as in their conversations, and her mind when he does go. She knows something's up of course, he's never acted this way, not even when they were teenagers. She understands that what they're doing isn't strictly friendish, she's leaning on him, drawing strength from him, accepting food from him. It's kind of a big deal, but she dodges thoughts of the subject as best she can. Right now she's hungry and eager for his company, she been nagging him to watch Jessica Jones. Finally there's a knock at the door and she hurries to open it.

"Food bearer!" She reaches for the bag, but Jess holds it out of her reach.

"What, are you gonna eat straight from the bag? No way! Go sit down. I'll fix it."

She aims her most grumpy stare at him but follows him into the kitchen and sits down.

"Where's Lorelai?" He asks as he unpacks the bag.

"The inn. They have a full house tonight and Michel has the weekend off. Luke was going over there later to help prepare breakfast, he didn't tell you?"

"Must have slipped his mind..." Jess says with an oddly biting smile.

The screening is awkward. She's talked the show up too much but can't get comfortable enough to chat away like she usually does. But it's not just her. He's quiet too. She sits next to him for a while like a civilized person, but her back aches. Leaning on him is too charged, so she lies down, on her left side, of course, head on the opposite end of the couch. Without uttering a word or taking his eyes off the screen he grabs her feet and places them in his lap, allowing her to stretch out. After that it's impossible for her to concentrate on anything besides her feet and legs. His hands are placed on top of them, over the space between her pants and socks, fingers grazing the skin and tiny hairs there. Warmth radiates from him, up her legs. Her back still aches and she's struck with a sharp impulse to pull him down behind her for warmth and... It's so strong that she has to fight it off by pinching herself. She twitches. He laughs silently and wraps her feet tighter against his abdomen to support them. It doesn't help, at least not for what really ails her.

After they've finished the fifth episode he turns to her. "Well, that was a bit of a let down."

"Oh come on! Just because you prefer Krysten Ritter in Veronica Mars..."

"Please. Like I care about Gia Goodman. I was expecting you to talk my ear off with all the extra fanformation."

"Yeah, sorry. I'm a bit out of it today" she admits as he pulls her up to a sitting position.

"It was still nice." He says. Their eyes lock, and she can't think of a reply. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but closes it again and averts his eyes. He stands up abruptly. "I should go if I wanna catch some sleep."

She follows him out on the porch. "So the deal is you go home for a couple of weeks and then you'll come back here and help me edit?"

"That's the idea."

"We're starting to cut it a bit close, don't you think? Another month and we might be outta time..." She says, hinting at her stomach.

"I guess I'd better stick around next time then. Wouldn't wanna miss the main event."

She looks at him and smiles, puzzled. "What? You wanna be here for that?"

His face changes, goes softer. It's like a mask dropping. "Yes. If you'll let me."

He reaches out to brush her hair behind her ear, and doesn't pull his hand away, but strokes her cheek. Her heartbeat speeds up. There's suddenly no doubt about what they've been doing, and the reality of it hits her with full force. Her smile drops and she steps away from his touch.

"Wait..."

His expression remains the same but he regards her attentively. She grasps for words.

"I can't, we can't, I mean, have you seen me lately?" She gestures to her body. " I'm the actual, lexical, literal definition of a mess."

"I know." His response is immediate and gaze unwavering. The corners of his mouth twitch slightly, almost like he's a little bit amused. "I used to be too, remember?"

Rory snorts disconcerted. "It's not the same though, is it? I've done so many stupid things."

Jess frowns. "Yeah, about that, you couldn't have picked up a phone while you were at it?"

She slaps his arm while he chuckles. "Jess!"

"Oh come on! You're not perfect, so what? Neither am I."

"But, boy, am I not perfect!" She exclaims, gesturing while she paces. "I live in my old room in my mother's house!"

"I live on your mother's couch occasionally" he retorts.

"But my stupid is so recent!"

"Luke quoted my fifteen year old snark back at me today. Still didn't feel good."

"I'm pregnant!"

Jess regards her quizzically. "Huh. Didn't we do this already? I know. It doesn't seem to matter to me. I still wanna be with you." He looks away and puts his hands in his pockets. "But listen, I'm not gonna pitch myself to you if you don't feel the same. If you don't please say so."

She blushes right down to the roots of her hair when she thinks of the moment on the couch. But she can't speak. Every choice she makes seems to have a built-in disaster lately, or always.

"Rory?"

"I'm not saying anything." Her eyes are fixed on the wooden floor of the porch. It's quiet and she's suddenly scared that he didn't get it. She has to look up. He's still standing there, body steady, hands in pockets, face lowered but eyes on her.

"Okay. Then I'm gonna talk." He starts moderated. "I'm doin' alright. So much better than I ever thought I could. And I'm pretty sure that could've never happened if we hadn't met. So in my book that sort of means I'm tied to you."

There's a strange sting inside at his words. She knows it's unfair but she can't help but indulge in every feeling coming her way these days. She gestures dramatically. "Well maybe it's time to close the book. You don't owe me anything! I'm not interested in your repayment! Whatever I did for you I did for selfish reasons, 'cause I –" she hesitates. "Because I loved you."

His expression is too mixed for her to decipher it. For a second he looks much younger. He extracts his hands from his pockets and gestures back, however significantly less startling. "I'm not trying to pay you back, I'm here because I wanna be. Can I try to explain it?"

She nods, dumfounded by the turn of their conversation. He looks up and takes a deep breath. When he speaks it's with obvious concentration.

"The thing about feeling shitty all the time; it gets really hard to tell things apart. One shitty feeling is so much like any other, I don't know if you've ever experienced that."

Something clicks inside her at his words. "I think I might have." She mumbles.

"That's what it was like for me back then. You were all I cared about and I left anyway. And it did something to me, it's still like that's the one thing I can't fix. I left without saying goodbye because I couldn't say goodbye... And when I saw you last year... It was like I remembered I still hadn't."

"Jess, you don't have to-" she starts, but he continues.

"My point is that I've been alright for a while now, so I could finally tell things apart. And all I felt was... love." He pauses at that and takes an unsteady breath. "That's why I'm back, not because of an IOU."

It's like being handed the key to an old test that you failed miserably at the time. She meets his gaze agape. He speaks again.

"And jokes aside, I don't wanna be some stupid mistake. And I'll wait for you to be sure if that's what you need. I just... really want a second chance." He finishes emphatically, hands open.

She takes a breath and it's like it's the first since he initiated his monologue. Tears fill her eyes. She feels raw; so present in her body and situation. Young and old at once. Flawed. She meets his gaze and finds her emotions mirrored there. "Maybe I do too", she sniffles.

He takes a step towards her. "You got it."

She covers her face in her hands to disappear into darkness, if just for a second. His hands grabs hers gently and pulls them down wiping the tears from her cheeks as they go. He looks at her with a small smile, head awry.

"Hey, what is it? Afraid you're gonna be a bad influence on me?"

She laughs while his smile broadens. He's still holding her hands and she laces their fingers together. His face gets serious as he registers the touch, and before she has time to think about it, she cranes her neck across the divide created by her tummy, and kisses him. With almost comical speed he moves his hands to grasp the back of her head and jaw, pressing their faces closer deepening the kiss. She wobbles at that and he puts his hand at her hip leading her in a somewhat clumsy dance to the wall. The impulse to have him closer returns and she grabs him by the back pulling him in. He hesitates and lets go of her mouth, seeking eye contact. She smiles.

"It's okay. It won't break." She breathes.

He looks relieved. Strokes her face, leans into her and kisses her again, more heated this time. Her muscle memory of the two of them returns in an intense flash as dormant attraction mixes with the new, sorely awake. Right. Her pulse travels like ripples through her body and it feels like shaking. She clings to him for stability. The feeling of him, his arms around her, is all-encompassing. His hand moves to her neck to steer her in their kiss, and he squeezes the most achy part of it. The relief makes her want to moan. She's just gotten the urge under control when the baby twists inside her and gives a hearty kick – she groans, loudly, and he lets go of her mouth pulling his face back with one of the most open expressions she's ever seen on him. His smile is wide, his eyes elated. Her groan transits to laughter.

"I felt that!" He says, putting his hands on her stomach and his forehead to hers. "I felt that."

His gaze is so tender that she almost starts bawling again. She looks at him in wonder.

"It's my heart," she starts, but trails off.

"What?"

She looks away to summon enough focus to continue. "Well, supposedly my heartbeat is really amplified in there, with all the blood pumping and..."

She looks back at him. "It's probably really loud in there right now."

She can tell he's trying to think of something to say, but he just winds up staring at her helplessly, quietly, mouth slightly open. She gulps, shakes her head, and speaks, voice unsteady. "Do you wanna come back inside?"

"Yes." He says.


	2. Chapter 2

[RORY]

As soon they enter the hallway they're all over each other. She turns and pulls him into a kiss escalated to plural instantly. He drops his bag with a satisfying thud and puts his hands on her. He pushes her mouth open with his and invades her mouth with his tongue and words.

"What do you want?" He breathes. "Whatever you want."

"What do you think?" She asks.

"Just making sure."

"Sex. With you. Would be preferable." She mumbles between kisses.

"Okay." He says, and lips his way from her jaw to her collar bone, while slipping his hands under her shirt, over her bra.

She's tempted to climb him, and realizes that if she hadn't been pregnant they might very well have ended up having sex in the hallway of her mother's house. And then it hits her. Where she is, when she is, how she is. They're not eighteen anymore. Memories of what she thought their first time might be like floods her head. It's nothing like this. The haste, the blatancy. She wonders what he fantasized about back then. She's so entangled in her thoughts she doesn't notice her motor activity faltering until he pulls away, eyes dark and a bit concerned.

"We should wait. Right?"

"No! Wait? Why? Is that what you want?"

"No. But what I want to do and what I should do aren't always the same."

"Well, why shouldn't we?"

"Because you're hesitating." He replies with a crooked smile.

"No. I mean yes. I'm just having a little trouble turning my head off."

He looks at her, frowning. "Maybe you shouldn't. It's sort of a big deal, right? It should feel like it. Even if it's awkward."

"Since when are you the emotionally mature one?" She huffs in a little hopeless laugh, expecting a cocky response implying always. He doesn't respond that way however. Instead he looks at her, abashed.

"Since therapy..." He answers lingering.

She blinks, startled. "What...? When?"

"Doesn't matter. It's not even a big deal. I-" He interrupts himself and makes his way to the kitchen. "Have you had coffee today? Do you want some?"

She follows him, determined. "Hey! We were talking, mister Evasive! You were saying something about therapy?"

He stops by the coffee maker and turns, eyes darting over the room as he tries to articulate words. He drags a hand across his face. "I was twenty something, leveling out at Truncheon. I was just starting-" he takes a short breath "to make stupid decisions on purpose. The guys had a talk with me, recommended someone. I couldn't afford many sessions, and walked in with a pretty big attitude about not being able to or wanting to come back if they couldn't 'fix me'."

"And?"

He shrugs. "And she told me she couldn't fix me. But that if I gave her a few times she could give me a 'basic repair kit' I could use on my own. And she did. It's not perfect, but it's kept me sort of tempered since."

His face at twenty one appears before her, and something bites inside her chest. At the thought of him in therapy, that maybe he's here with her like this now because of it, tenderness overwhelms her. It takes her a few seconds before she remembers she's allowed to express the feeling without using words now. She steps up to him and touches his face. He closes his eyes. It's been a long time since she felt like she was in a position to offer... anything to anyone really, but not now. She feels strong, comforting, all of a sudden. She knows it's unfounded, but she embraces it all the same. She presses kisses to his forehead, cheek and finally mouth. It's slow and soft and she feels way too affected. His frame swallows her as she sinks into his arms. He gets hard after a little while and the sensation of it makes her wish she was already naked and on top of him, or in whichever position he might survive. Despite his obvious arousal he doesn't accelerate their interaction, but continues kissing her while breathing heavier. If only she was in a condition allowing a few drinks. Because this isn't just any hook up. She knows it. It's their friendship reaching its tipping point. It's her teenage self in a prophecy playing itself out a lot later than what she's expected. It's making a decision. Her lust turns to nervousness. She pulls back.

"How did you want our first time to be when we were dating?"

He looks confused. "What? Why d'you ask?"

She tries to keep it light, but can't look him in the eye. "Can't imagine it was anything like this s'all."

"Nope." He smiles. "For one thing I think we should have done this sooner. But I'll take what I can get."

She grins sharply. "Must be quite a disappointment."

He's instantly serious. "Rory, stop!" He counters, tilting his head closer to hers seeking eye contact. "Is this how I pictured our first time? No. But it makes absolutely no difference to me now. We're not kids anymore. I wanted you then and I want you now, but back then I couldn't handle that you came with a package-deal. I can now. I do now."

She stares at the floor. He grabs her chin turning her face to his. "If you wanna wait, or if you've changed your mind, just tell me. But please don't try to put this on me, like I'm the one freaking out, 'cause I'm not."

She draws an shaky breath. "I know! I'm sorry. Jess. You can't think I don't want this."

"I can wait." He continues. "I haven't kissed you in ten years. I could do that for a while."

She looks at him, almost insulted. "We don't have time for kissing!" She blurts out, and hears how ridiculous it sounds, but can't stop herself. "We're behind schedule. You were right. We were supposed to have done this before and now we're here and there's so much history and... I really want this and it's daunting and I just can't turn it down, inside my head. I need your help. Please. I need you to help me." She seals her eyes shut and shakes her head. His hands takes hold of the sides of it and forces it still. When she opens her eyes he's looking intently at her.

"Okay." He says softly. He bites his lower lip, eyes trailing the ceiling. A few seconds pass, then he turns his gaze back on her, with new determination. "Come on."

He leads her into her bedroom by the hand. It's dark except for a small night light in the corner. He lets go of her and walks over to the window, closing the blinds. He repeats this on the others while she watches, weak at the knees. He turns to her, the first time since they've entered the room. They look at one another for a moment before he strides to her and grasps her waist, turning her to face the mirror. He presses her back to the front of his body, meeting her eyes in the glass. The light from the other room streams in, illuminating them. His hands travel her arms caressing them, then moves to her hips and from there up the side of her body to her breasts. Her mouth falls slightly open to facilitate deeper breaths. He smiles and pulls her shirt over her head. She lifts her arms and fights off the urge to cover herself when lowering them. He snaps open her bra, pushes it off her shoulders and removes his own shirt. She leans back into him, and he drags his chin over her neck and shoulder making her shiver. He gently shifts her forward back to her own center of gravity, looks her in the eyes, tucks his fingers inside the rim of her pants and pulls them down. He squats to lift her feet one at the time to remove them completely. She covers her face in her hands. She feels him moving while unbuttoning his own pants and climbing out of them. He steps behind her again and wraps himself to her back. He puts his mouth to her ear.

"Open your eyes. Please."

She does and goosebumps spread across her skin as she sees herself, naked, pregnant, and with him behind her, mainly blocked by her body, but also clearly bare. Their eyes lock in the mirror and her breathing gets more strained. She's never been more vulnerable, and the intimacy of it all makes her head spin with excitement.

"Say something." He whispers.

"I'm scared." She manages.

"You don't have to be," he starts "but I know it probably doesn't help, so I'll just let you know, that I'm scared too. This is possibly the biggest thing I've ever done..." His lips graze her as he finishes: "No pun intended."

Her mouth drops open in chock and she turns her head to face him.

"Oh! My! God!" She hoots as the corners of her mouth turn inadvertently up. "I can't believe you just said that!"

She recognises his expression from their youth, a mixture of exhilaration and boldness.

"But you thought it was funny. And you're not scared now, are you?"

"No. More like homicidal."

He smirks. "Please hold on to that feeling, but be gentle."

"The insolence!" She exclaims, picking a very strange time to channel her grandmother.

"I love how you say 'insolence'. So hot." He laughs while trying to block a number of slaps from her. He's right though, annoyingly so, she's not scared anymore. Just a little bit angry and a lot turned on. Without clothes, it's hard to hide, so she makes no attempt to. And neither does he. She understands he's been holding back, offering her space to make conscious decisions, but once he stops, his presence becomes hungry, urgent, and it's contagious. They wind up on her bed, she slightly on her left side but twisted to keep on kissing him. He makes a move as if to get up and she grabs his neck.

"Where do you think you're going?"

"Bag in hallway, condoms."

She sighs impatiently. "Are you clean?"

"Always. For some reason I'm a big stickler for birth control."

"Then you won't need it now, mothers-to-be are given the full scan. But at some point we're gonna have a conversation about your priorities."

He almost looks embarrassed, but smiles. "And it's too late to get you pregnant, right?"

"Huh, an unexpected perk of pregnancy."

"Okay" he mumbles, suddenly earnest. He steers her hips into the right position and pushes inside her. She gasps at the sensation. It's been eight months since last, a lot by her standards. She's quickly caught up in the ecstasy of it but there's something so different about this. It's her first time with this transient body of hers, and it makes her feel both awkward and reverent when she thinks of the act as some sort of circular scenario. Other lovers have been significantly more easy going, casual about the whole thing, which has helped her relax, and not think too hard about it. He touches her firmly, consciously, face serious. Looking straight at him almost makes her cry, and the impulse sneaks into her moans, making them sound like sobs. She turns away to gain some composure. She slips into the dark, warm storm of her body and loses herself there for a few unmeasurable moments, but in the end she can't shut out the distinct feeling of him, her friend, of old and new love. And it's that knowledge, of his hands on her hips, his eyes on her, him inside her, him, that pushes her over the edge. He follows moments later, matching her whimpers with ragged breaths as he collapses against her. He seizes her almost immediately after, stroking her body, turning her to face him, and kisses her until their breaths are even again. She smiles, and can't seem to stop looking at him, as if the image of him like this, along with their new actuality will imprint on her.

"That was..." she starts.

"Nice." He finishes.

"Just nice?"

"Good." He responds warmly. "Awesome even, and I never use that word."

"Not strange?"

"Why, because of this?" He pets her tummy. "Please! Like this is the weirdest sex I've ever had. Ouch!" She pinches him.

"Okay, maybe it makes the top five. Ow!" Another pinch.

"But since it's also what I've wanted for a really long time it sort of cancels out any residual weird." He closes. She kisses him.

[JESS]

He opens his eyes. He's spooning her partly to fit on her tiny bed, but mostly because it feels like a physical impossibility to pry himself away from her. She's naked and warm in his arms and he runs his face over her neck. He feels a vibration against his right hand, which is resting against her belly, and realizes it's what woke him up. She may be asleep but the baby is very much awake and jabs at his hand several times. He smiles, and his heartbeat accelerates when the verity of his situation trickles into his head. Pretty soon he's unable to keep still due to his racing thoughts. He manoeuvers out of bed, pulls on his pants and shirt, and tucks Rory in before he leaves the room.

He enters the kitchen, keeping ears and eyes peeled for signs of Luke or Lorelai. But nothing. And everything is unchanged from last night. They didn't come home and he wonders where they are and what they know. He puts on coffee, then goes to use the bathroom. He stands in front of the mirror for a while, trying to grasp this reality. He's been so focused on working up the courage to tell her how he feels, he never really dared to imagine what an existence following reciprocation might be like, but now it's crashing in on him. He'll have to stay. He can't uproot her, at least not now. He stares at his own solemn face in the mirror, fixing himself in the spot.

"This is where I end up," he mumbles. "Stars Hollow." He closes his eyes, shakes his head. He stops. Looks back at his image. "With Rory." He corrects himself, and doesn't look away. He grabs his bag from the hallway and walks back into her room, putting it down on her floor. She's still asleep. Beautiful. Very pregnant. "She's having a baby." The thought is crystal clear and cuts through all else inside him. He considers getting back to bed, wants to, but can't stop his head from spinning. He walks back into the kitchen and looks for something edible with no luck.

He grabs a cup of coffee instead and walks out on the porch, seating himself on the steps. Luke's question from yesterday echoes in his head; "raise another man's child, could you do that?" Not just any man's. Logan's. He's hated Logan. Regretted not punching him that time in New Haven. Wished him unwell after Philadelphia, when she left because of him. The fathering of someone else's child doesn't feel far fetched to him, every man in his life has in a sense been trying, with a varying degree of success, to raise another's offspring, Luke took him in, even his deadbeat dad seems to have done an okay job in caring for the stepdaughter. Blood relation isn't a guarantee for care, he knows that from experience too. Of course he can do this. But can he compete with Logan? The baby puts the guy in Rory's life forever, a constant. He was so sure they were meant for each other, and isn't he still, to be honest? It puts him in a dangerous position, to lose her again... He shivers despite the May morning warmth. What if she's not as invested in this as he is? It feels right, but that's the way it always felt like with her. He can't know. He's afraid, and he's aware he can't reason it away, the only thing that works is to act. He gets up.

He walks back into the kitchen as she emerges from the bedroom in robe, hair on end, sleep still in her eyes. They both halt in their tracks as they notice each other. His heartbeat pounds the inside of his chest and he struggles to control his expression, which he's sure is too candid. She regards him openly, with those blue eyes, and a smile spreads across her face.

"Hi." She says.

"Hi." The word cracks his facade open at the mouth and he returns the smile.

She walks up to him hastily and puts her arms around his waist while leaning her forehead to his. The risks are irrelevant. He's all in, it's done. He laughs with relief and kisses her. She lets out a satisfied purr. He withdraws reluctantly after a few moments and gestures to the coffee pot.

"There's coffee for you. I tried to make breakfast, but there's nothing but stale pop-tarts here. How can you be pregnant and not have any food in your house?"

"I ate it all." She retorts deadpan. "The pop-tarts will do."

"Oh no. Please don't eat that!"

"Okay, Luke." She says. "Guess we'll go to the Inn. My mom texted me. They're there."

"Well, that means Ceasar's opening Luke's, we could go there if you-"

"I figured we might get the whole... Flaunting out of the way." She says pointedly.

He looks at her, surprised. "Okay."

She gets dressed and they head out. She takes his hand. The morning's still early. As they walk into the Dragonfly, Lorelai freezes.

"Hi!" Her eyes dart to their interlaced hands and back to their faces. "So this is what you meant by 'we' in your text?"

Rory nods. "Yup. This is we."

Lorelai stays cool, and smiles amused. "So I'm guessing you need lots and lots if sustenance?"

"Please!" Rory says dramatically. "I'm feeling a little fainty."

Lorelai's smile broadens, while she obviously stifles an ambiguous comment, then she promptly turns and walks off.

Rory raises her brows. "That was moderate of her."

Not a minute passes before Luke's voice comes thundering from the kitchen. "Rory! Jess! Fancy seeing you here!"

Jess winces and looks at Rory who shrugs. "Sorry."

"Am I blushing? 'Cause it would my first time."

She laughs. "Sorry."

"How are you so cool about this?"

"I'm used to it?"

A few awkward hugs and huge breakfast later, they exit the Inn and start walking back to the house.

"We should walk by the book store", Rory says breezily "Do the full tour". As they walk through the center of the town she takes his hand again. He sneaks glances at her in quiet admiration, has to contend his urge to stare at her. This is a long way gone from the girl who wanted to hide in corners. Her self-evident hand in his. He's someone she shows off. The awkwardness aside, this is what he wants. His chest aches and he takes a few deep breaths trying to relieve the tightness.

"What is it?"

"It's stupid."

"Oh come on!"

"I'm happy, okay?"

"Poor baby!"

"It's sort of rare."

"Poor baby."

"Forget it."

"No, it's just that, 'round here I think happiness might be in the town byelaws. So if you're gonna stick around you'll have to get with the program." She puts her arm around him and sticks her head in the crook of his neck. A few seconds pass.

"You are sticking around, right?"

"Yes." He says.


	3. Chapter 3

[RORY]

She wakes up from the silence. That's the bar now. She's on the couch under a blanket. She checks her phone, one am. She sits up and rubs her eyes. It's her turn to sleep, but her mommy-brain won't let her. She's constantly listening, even when she's out of it. All sleep is light. Her breasts are aching, it's been a few hours since she fed Richard. He is roughly two months old and this is his fourth week of colic, which means that nothing really helps, not even food, especially not food. Infants sleep a lot, but unfortunately just in short sections, surfacing every now and then to eat, or in Richard's case, to cry. It's been weeks since she past the point where she could describe her exhaustion in established terms. Since then the words have really lost all meaning.

And during all of this she's in love. New love, standing on old, balancing. With all the extra height and dynamic it implies. She feels it, in her abdomen, throat and lips. Under her skin. The intense impulses to touch him, warmth in her body, the nearly painful longing for him. She shares her old bedroom with him and Richard. Close quarters, but without any real opportunities to take advantage of the spacial intimacy. They're awkward in their new roles, all work. And no release. There's too much to do. And when there's not she's being told to sleep, to eat, the two things her lovesickness doesn't want her to do, but that she needs desperately. She knows they're supposed to make room for each other and could use some guidance in the matter, but would rather swallow her own tongue than go to her mother about it. And the doctors don't know how to handle her and Jess as a couple. Her married friends were told to reassume sexual activity at their earliest convenience, but because he started joining her appointments so late in the pregnancy they don't know what to make of him and seem reluctant to offer advise. She feels ready. The stitches from Richard's birth came out nearly two weeks ago, but there's been no time to do anything about it. Because her feelings never vent, there's a constant buzzing in her. The frustration is worsened by the sleepless nights.

She walks into the bedroom expecting to find Jess in bed and Richard in his crib. That's not the case. Jess is in the easy chair, asleep. Richard is lying belly down on his chest, arms and legs outstretched like a little frog. Despite her fatigue she smiles. The position is adorable. She looks at Jess. He's looking pretty silly in the awkward state in the chair, but his face when he sleeps is something else. Disarmed. She gets stuck staring at it. And the image of the two of them there, chest to chest, stops being funny and turns beautiful. She's filled with tenderness and gratitude and it's so strange how those two emotions intertwine with the desire to be alone with Jess, to reclaim their title, something that's sorely needed after two months. She shakes her head and sighs, leaning in to move Richard.

[JESS]

He wakes up from her touch. Warmth and scent radiating off her and charging the air around them as she lifts her son from his arms. Her eyes are tired but locked with his. As she turns around to put the baby in the crib he's unable to look away. She's in a t-shirt and panties and he stares at her legs, hips and waist when she leans over. He can't help himself, although he usually stops his mind from wandering and has been since the birth, it takes energy though, which is too hard to summon in his just risen state. The only thing he can do is make sure he stays in the chair to not crowd her. So he does, while the impulse to touch her ripples to his skin making it tingle. She turns and meets his gaze in the murky room, eyes dimmed, mouth slightly open. A step places her within reach and he fights the urge to use it.

Like through some sort of miracle she straddles him on the chair, her head obviously in the same place as his, and kisses him heatedly, mouth open. He returns the kisses, too tired to pace himself. His hands travel inside her t-shirt up over her breasts. He tries to be careful, it's been sort of an uncomfortable area for her since Richard's laid claim to it. The feel of her on his palms causes him to thrust his hips to her center. He lets go of her at that to control himself and strokes her legs instead, up to her hips. The reflex keeps mincing at him and finally he's forced into action. He slides his hands underneath her thighs and butt and lifts her as he stands up. A couple of steps puts them next to the bed and he tries to ease her down, to avoid a creak that might wake Richard. She's grabbed hold of his t-shirt and keeps him in place even as her weight is supported by the bed. She drags it off him and immediately moves her grasp to his hair and lower back pulling him closer. He gives up on trying to divert what he wants and kisses her with abandon, grinding his hips into hers. A muffled moan vibrates off her, through her mouth and chest and she hikes her knees up. The sound and sensation almost does it for him and he uses his last coherence to unbutton his pants. At that moment, Richard wakes up. A brittle, but insistent cry from the crib.

It's a power outage in him. Then he takes a deep, slightly shaky breath and pushes it all down, rolling off her. She covers her face in her hands for a second, and then she gets up, takes the crying baby in her arms and starts pacing. He lies on his back for a couple of minutes, calming himself and trying to think of something to say. Something to comfort her, or himself, but that's never been a strength of his, at least not something he's been able to do on purpose. According to his own rules for magical thought, his power depends on his ability to keep himself in check, and now he didn't. He has no words, so he gets up and walks out the room, to try and get some sleep on the couch. When he wakes up from the silence a while later he shuffles back into the room and gets into bed with her, trying to keep some distance to not wake her or any impulses of his own.

Richard wakes them both up at dawn. Jess sits himself up, but when he tries to stand Rory holds him back.

"I got it."

He raises his eyebrows. Usually she doesn't protest their system of alternating with Richard. But he lies back down as she carries the baby out of the room. The lack of activity doesn't do him any favors though. It just sets him thinking.

He's really too tired to worry about their situation in any lucid way, but that's just it. Being tired is kind of like having a bad immune system: you're susceptible to a whole bunch of bullshit you would've usually just brushed off, in this case his longing for her takes the shape of constant aches making him irritable on a more occurring level than he would've liked. He's aware of the reason for it, but can't focus enough to drive it off.

He hears Richard crowing through the wall and a little while later Lorelai and Luke as they get up and join Rory in the kitchen. When the sound of the running shower adds to the cacophony, he gets up.

[RORY]

In the shower she tries to block out the memories of last night as best she can since they make her knees buckle. She hasn't experienced unveiled want like that in a long while, and for it not to go anywhere... She shakes her head to get rid of the image of him on that bed, eyes to the ceiling. That paired with him in the chair with Richard minutes before makes her feel ashamed.

Is this all she can offer him? Sleep deprivation, responsibility for a child that isn't his, celibacy with a dash of sexual masochism, barely a space in her old room, his things in boxes in the garage? She sticks her head under the scolding water to shut her thoughts off, but as she gets out if the shower she still can't face herself in the mirror. She wraps a robe around her body and exits the bathroom.

All inhabitants of the house are in the kitchen, Lorelai and Luke are at the table and Richard's in his bouncing chair in the corner. Jess is up also, at the table with a cup of coffee. He looks up at her as she enters, shooting her a little smile. She can't bear to look at him, and goes to get a cup of her own instead. She feels his gaze burning a hole in her back, then Lorelai comes up beside her, rubbing her shoulder with her own.

"Hey kid. That was some encore Little Richard gave last night."

Rory groans. Of course they heard it. They probably hear everything. She musters a smile.

"Yeah, well... Just when you think you're out he pulls you back in."

"That's parenthood for ya."

Rory forces a laugh. She knows it's just a comment to lighten the mood, but she stiffens anyway. This, forever... it's a basic nightmare. And she can't help thinking that the statement's true for Lorelai. What her mother's pictured for her, for herself, at this point in life is probably pretty far from reality. Rory's mind is heavy from the thought.

Meanwhile Richard's growing anxious in his baby bouncer, and she readies herself to comfort him when Jess reaches out to pick him up. Rory hurries past him.

"Don't." She says. "I'll get him."

"Why?" He stares at her intently, sharply questioning, obviously onto her. "You're just outta the shower. Let me."

"You've done enough." She picks up Richard and walks towards the bedroom.

"What the hell is your problem?" He snaps.

In the corner of her eye she sees Luke and Lorelai exchanging glances. Luke gets on his feet and removes himself from the room. Lorelai stares at them both, frowning.

"My problem is you doing what you're doing!" She bursts. "This isn't your responsibility!"

He gets up.

"What are you talking about? Of course it is, he's yours!"

"Right! Mine. Not yours."

His face is naked sadness for a fraction of a second before he covers it up. It's enough for her heart to break, however. In a flash she's so angry with herself that she wants to scream. A not so discrete cough comes from the corner of the kitchen.

"Okay!" Lorelai says. "Timeout!" She steps to the middle of the room positioning herself between the couple. "It's getting a little nutty in here now, and you know why? 'Cause you two haven't slept properly since Little Richard was born." She looks between them. "So here's what's gonna happen; me and Luke are gonna take Rich for a little adventure today and you two can... deal with this on your own, 'kay?"

"Mom-" Rory starts.

"Not taking no for an answer." Lorelai walks up to her daughter and peels her grandson from her grasp. "You left some formula in the fridge, right?"

Rory looks away, defeated, tired.

"Sure." She says.

Lorelai pats her on the cheek and walks to the fridge picking out a bottle.

"Luke? You get the sling?"

"Yup!" Comes from the hallway. "Pram's out front!"

"Coming! See you crazy kids later." Lorelai shoots them a smile and a wink and walks out the front door.

Jess sighs and looks at Rory. She returns the look ruefully, and turns away from him.

"Rory," he starts mollifying. "I'm not sure what's going on-"

"I'm sorry." She interrupts.

"It's okay."

"It's not. It's too much. You give up too much."

He frowns.

"What am I giving up?"

"Your home, your job, your life-"

His expression is one of disbelief.

"I moved a household that fitted in three bags and four boxes, still got the job, and my life?" He pauses briefly, eyes to the ceiling. "As far as I'm concerned I gave up being lonely."

"Sleep, sex-"

"Do you want me to leave?"

He looks scared and her inside mirrors it as the thought chills her to the core.

"No!"

He exhales.

"Then this is how it is for now. We got together a month before Richard was born, I knew what I was getting myself into!"

She forces comfort on herself with his words and feels it working, warmth spreading in her chest. She tries to collect herself and a few seconds pass before she speaks again.

"Okay, fine. But I'm not sure I can let you work this hard from now on." She goes for the tone of a joke, but it's clear that he's having none if it. He takes a step towards her.

"And I'm not sure I can just back off. I'm in your life, I can't be one foot out the door concerning Richard. If I'm with you I'm with him."

"But you wouldn't have to take him every other night, you could take it easy-"

"I don't wanna take it easy!" He raises his voice again. She sighs.

"I appreciate everything you're doing, but I'm just reminding you that there's no obligation on your part-" She observes his look and steers in another direction. "You're not Jimmy, or Liz for that matter. You don't have to compensate for any of their limitations."

He lets out a silent, cold laugh, before protesting, restrained, careful to weigh every word.

"Don't do that! Try to analyze me like I'm some case study in psych 101. I'm not compensating for anything! I'm not doing you some favor. I love you!"

She remembers the only other time he told her, but back then he appeared from the void, just to be swallowed by it again as the words were spoken, like that's what brought him there. Now the situation's strangely reversed, and he's the one who won't go away, telling her to stay. He's here. They both are.

The words tug at her. She feels them in her abdomen, throat and lips, feels his presence. The awareness that they're alone in the kitchen, crashes in on her and she forgets that she's annoyed. She observes him instead. His neck, arms, hips, and his eyes, where the same insight changes his expression right at that moment.

Whoa.

It only takes a stride to close the gap between them. She grabs the back of his head and his shoulder dragging him into a determined kiss. She leans backwards and pulls him off balance, landing against the kitchen counter with a muffled thud. He finds himself quickly and presses against her greedily. Inside her the motor memory of last night kicks in and her mind falls into the haze.

She vaguely registers that she's only wearing the robe and his hands slip inside it stroking her stomach. Somewhere way back in her mind she's self conscious the increased stretch marks and softness of that area, but she's too desperate for him to linger on the feeling. He grabs her waist and lifts her up on the counter, pushes her robe aside and takes a sharp unsteady breath as his eyes trail her body. His hands move from her tummy to her thighs, squeezing and dragging his nails over them, before slipping in between them. His eyes move to meet hers, asking permission, which she grants by pushing her hips forward, letting out a sort of broken whimper as his fingers touch her. He kisses her while stroking her tentatively. At that, frustration wells up in her. How could she have worried about this? This is easy. They haven't had sex for two months – a look is pretty much all the foreplay she needs.

She grabs his wrists and pulls his hands up her thighs while slinging her legs around his and partly dragging herself to the edge of the counter, partly roping him in. She feels him through his pants and can't think, can't wait. She reaches in between them unbuttoning the garment with efficiency that surprises even herself, pushes them down and brings him in. He immediately starts rocking the two of them on the bench. She lets out a very audible breath at the familiar and simultaneously foreign sensation. She clenches her thighs around his hips slowing the motion to a stop. She closes her eyes to take it in. It's like waking up a sleeping limb. She examines her own inside using him. She feels the new scars after her sutures, tries out her muscles for what seems like the first time in a while, and revels in the pleasure of it. She opens her eyes to find his half-dimmed gaze on her face. He's holding himself still with obvious effort and his eyes locks pleadingly with hers. A happy smile spreads across her face and she releases her thigh lock to set him rocking them again. This time she lets her lust build inside with purpose.

She tilts her hips forward while leaning her head against the cabinets behind her, creating a gap between the two of them that allows her to look at him. This has been difficult since they got together at a time when her body put a lot of restrictions on sexual positions. But not now. Her gaze travels his hips, arms and shoulders. She lets out a small growl and grabs hold of his t-shirt there, dragging it off him. It's a sight to behold. Tightness clenches in her abdomen and she reaches out and drags her hands down the front of his body with relish. He manages a grin midst his engrossment in her. His hands moves up her body, one locking hold of the back of her neck, and one stroking her face, forehead, cheek and mouth, while his gaze follows. She smiles again, can't help it, and his eyes go warm.

He loves me, she thinks and knows it's true. The emotion makes her moan, and he closes his eyes as if he can't take it. His hand strokes back down her body, her throat, collarbones, in between her breasts and stops at her waist, squeezing it hard.

They're close now. She arches her back and squeezes around him to push herself over.

He drags her into a kiss that dampens the sound of their climax, she feels his in his twitching muscles, tight hold of her and the vibrations of a moan.

His head rests in the crook of her neck, and she embraces him tighter to her, exhilarated by the release. As her breathing slows, a violent drowsiness overcomes her. He pulls back his face, still out of breath, struggling to concentrate.

"We should sleep." He manages.

She nods fervently.

"Hang on." He adjusts his pants, grabs hold of her and carries her into their bedroom. She entangles herself with him on the bed, intensely unwilling to put space between them. Her head barely leans on his shoulder before she drifts off.

The next time she wakes up it's from her bedroom door slowly opening and Lorelai sticking her head in, she has Jess' t-shirt in hand and hangs it on the doorknob. Rory catches her mother's eye then, and raises her eyebrows to inquire about Richard. Lorelai shakes her head and puts a finger to her lips.

"He's fine. Don't get up." She mouths. Rory rests her head back on Jess' shoulder, and smiles at her mother as she closes the door.

"Thanks mom."

"Nice hair." Lorelai snickers.

She should probably be embarrassed but is feeling a bit too content to bother. Instead she looks at Jess, that unguarded face. She takes a moment to indulge in her blossoming love, to really feel it. Then the memory of her words from before makes her wince. They'll still be true tomorrow but she knows she'll have to deal with that a bit more delicately from now on. It's bound to get really complicated, especially considering how many hours he's clocking with Richard. But he might be right, maybe that's the only way to handle this, it's too late for second thoughts. She leans in and kisses his neck repeatedly.

"Wake up, wake up, wake up." She whispers. He groans and twists himself sideways to kiss her. She almost looses her concentration but pulls away to his disgruntled sounds.

"They're back."

"Okay." He plays with her hair. She makes deliberate eye contact with him.

"Can you take Richard? I could use an extra half-hour."

He smiles.

"Yes." He says.


	4. Chapter 4

[JESS]

His eyes flutter open. He must have dosed off. He draws a sharp breath trying to get his bearings. It's close to dawn, he can tell from the grayish streaks in the night sky visible through the window. He's semi-horizontal on Lorelai's couch, and Richard is sleeping on his chest. Rory's son is two months and twenty three days and suffering from colic, which keeps him up crying late most nights and has earned him the prefix "Little". The last few nights have been particularly punishing, hence the quasi-coma on the couch. Jess strokes the downy head and holds it firmly to support it while getting up. He makes his way to their room and eases the sleeping baby into the crib in the corner. He gets under the covers with Rory. She's sleeping deeply, all done. He nestles in close anyway and tries to get to sleep.

It turns out to be impossible. Too many thoughts spinning about the upcoming day. He's rented an apartment from the dreaded Taylor Doose for him and Rory. They're moving the first things today.

"What, are you gonna live with Luke and Lorelai forever?" He asked. "Think about it. I know you feel bad about them losing sleep 'cause of Richard, and if we moved the only people we would annoy would be Taylor's tenants, and that would bug Taylor!"

Rory lit up. "Good point. And we could have loud obnoxious sex and play rock and roll music!"

"It's win-win. And if you want it could just be temporary, 'til we know what's what with the book, or 'til Richard's older."

This had sealed the deal and made Luke chuckle when told about it later.

"You better watch out for those temporary solutions", he said "or before you know it you'll have spent ten years in rooms with the wrong wallpaper, putting your money in the pockets of the likes of Taylor."

Jess told him to back off of course but knows he has several points. And Taylor's already pissing him off, starting a month ago with some bullshit about the town-approved color-scale for blinders and last week grumbling about Jess and Rory living in sin under 'his' roof, and how that subsequently reflected the state of the entire town. Luckily Rory stepped in with stern face, subduing Taylor and pulling Jess away before he had the chance to give the Town Selectman a piece of his dark mind.

Then Logan called. He's been traveling all summer and this is the first chance he's had to come visit in the flesh, although Rory's had a few Skype-sessions to introduce him to Richard. He's coming over today. Jess knows that it's just been a matter of time of course, but he still not ready for it. He has no idea how he's going to react to seeing Logan and he's worried.

After an hour of tossing and turning he gives up and gets up. Luke's already in the kitchen and grunts a greeting when Jess joins him. Jess puts on another pot of coffee and sits down at the table with his face in his hands.

"When he's asleep you should be too." Luke says.

"Yeah, I would if I could." Jess scowls tiredly at his uncle. Luke nods slowly and sets a bowl of oatmeal in front of him. Jess pushes it away.

"If you insist on staying up with Little Richard, not sleep on his clock, and move boxes you're gonna need to ingest something other than coffee."

Jess sighs, pulls back the bowl and has a spoonful, exaggerating the motion.

"Good." Luke tosses him his car key. "Use the truck, and Jess..." He hesitates. "Take it easy today. You're fine."

Jess returns the look, then nods curtly in response.

Lorelai enters the kitchen in her pj's and robe as Luke readies to leave. She walks up to him and leans into a hug. He kisses her and exits through the back door. She pours herself a cup of coffee and sits down at the table barely managing a simper at Jess. He raises his eyebrows as a greeting. He knows she's not a big talker this early if she can help it, especially not around him. It's a trait they share and he doesn't mind the quiet. It's usually short-lived. She squints at his oatmeal.

"Luke." He explains.

Rory appears, in an outfit comically similar to Lorelai's, still looking exhausted. She shuffles up to Jess and kisses his head.

"Thank you for taking him." She says.

"Shut up." He says softly but somewhat bitterly. She means well, but every 'thanks' reminds him that she knows he doesn't have to be here, like the things he does are optional. They're not. Ever since that night and morning in may and possibly earlier than that, he is irrevocably bound to her and all that she is. He tried to explain it to her weeks ago unsuccessfully.

"You're not Jimmy, or Liz for that matter." She said. "You don't have to compensate for any of their limitations."

"Don't do that! I'm not compensating for anything!" Possibly a lie. "I'm not doing you some favor. I love you!" Not a lie.

That shut her up alright, but resulted in no apparent changes in her behavior surrounding his position in her and Richard's life.

Rory frowns at his oatmeal.

"Luke." Lorelai explains.

"Do we have anything edible?" Rory whines.

"Depends on who you´re asking." Jess tries.

"By our standards, there's all sorts of things." Lorelai interrupts sprightly.

"What other standards are there?" Rory smiles.

"The kind you need to maintain for the strength to feed another human being from you body." He interjects sternly. "There's some granola Luke prepared for you in the cupboard, and use the greek yoghurt."

She glares at him.

"I can't believe it either." He mutters.

"Fine." She concedes. "And to show you what a big person I am, I'm gonna do you a favor." She grabs his bowl of porridge and empties it in the trash. He sighs.

"Trash needs to be taken out." She remarks. "If you hurry back I could fix you your very own portion of granola."

"Don't hold your breath." He retorts while grabbing the trash bags.

"But how can we breathe without you, dear valiant trash knight!" Lorelai suddenly howls, caffeine kicking in.

"Isn't there a song about that?" Rory asks as she actually fetches the granola.

"A valiant trash knight?"

"No, the breathing part."

"I'm sure, but I don't think trash was involved. If anything I'd think it might be prudent to breathe while out of the near vicinity of the trash."

"No, I remember it now!" Rory says and starts singing an old Leann Rimes song off key.

Jess shakes his head and bites back his chuckle. If he lets them know he enjoys it, they will keep at it until he goes nuts.

He's still sort of in the conversation when he treads onto the porch and comes face to face with Logan, who smiles at him. Jess stops abruptly and feels his chest tighten. Nope. Definitely nowhere near ready. Logan doesn't recognise him, or pretends not to, and reaches out his right hand.

"Hi there. Logan Huntzberger. I'm looking for-"

"She's inside." Jess replies tensely. "You'll let yourself in." He lifts both his hands to illustrate how full they are, which thankfully gets him out of shaking Logan's.

"Thank you" Logan smiles again and saunters in the front door.

Jess walks to the garbage cans and drops the bags. He remains standing there for a few moments, trying to collect himself. He heads back towards the house and passes by Rory's window. Unable to resist he looks through it. Rory's just entered the room with Logan and is showing him the crib holding Richard. They're both smiling and Rory reaches into the crib to lift the baby up. He's just waking up and Rory rocks him in her arms before carefully handing him over to Logan, who looks completely captivated. The sight breaks Jess' heart. He can't put it into any other comprehensible terms. He knows it's unfair, unreasonable to feel it, but is too exhausted to fight back. He is struggling to take some form of action, make some sort of decision, when Lorelai's voice breaks through his delirium.

"Jess."

He reluctantly turns to face her. "Lorelai."

She's in jeans and t-shirt now with her coat over her shoulders and a scarf hastily tossed around her neck, probably since she's hurried to get out of Rory's and Logan's way. She walks up to him.

"How you doin'?" She asks, smiling at him like he's a guest at the Inn.

He's never been good at showing any feelings other than hostility, at his worst, and evasive politeness, at his best, to her. And this moment is no different.

"I'm okay, Lorelai. You?"

"I'm fine. Listen, Jess, I think we should talk."

"Yeah?" He's distracted by the proximity to the window and keeps trying to turn his head to look.

"Yeah," she says. "Listen, I think I owe you an apology."

He's genuinely shocked, and he stares at her intently all of a sudden. "What for?"

"For always, I guess." She starts. "Look if there's anything I've learned through the years, it's that people don't really change, not at their core."

It doesn't sound good. Is he still the car crashing, smart-mouthed, run-away teenager to Lorelai?

"And the way you've come through for us the last months has convinced me that according to my own rules, I must have been wrong about you back then."

He looks at her incredulously, without being able to produce a response.

"You left." She says. "But I did too when I was a kid. And I'm still the one of Rory's parents who've been consistent in her life. You came back. And I know this isn't even the first time you've swooped in-"

This is too much. He's overwhelmed by the past night and morning. Exhausted, distraught, and now happy and embarrassed over Lorelai's recognition. All at the same time, he feels dizzy and interrupts her.

"Lorelai, you really don't have to-"

"I know. That's another consistent thing about you; your stiff upper lip. Don't think I don't see you keeping it together for Rory and Little Richard."

He readies to tell her to cork it, in so many words, but she steps closer to him and pats him on the cheek. He's stunned. She's practically never touched him before.

"What I'm trying to say is, thank you for what you're doing for my daughter." She shoots him a tight smile and winks at him. "That is all." She strolls toward the road.

Irritation creeps back. Another round of "Thank-you-for-your-services". And the pat on the cheek! Does he instill any kind of respect any more, or ever? He looks to the window. Rory's room is empty. Neither she, Logan nor Richard can be seen. Jess feels scattered, like he's searching for a lost train of thought, and finally understands what Lorelai's been doing. He turns and calls to her as she's walking away. "Thank you."

She turns and smiles, warmly this time. "You're welcome." She walks on and he heads in the direction of the garage instead of the house, planning to load a few of Rory's book-boxes into Luke's truck, for the first drive to the apartment.

[RORY]

Rory watches Logan look in wonder at his son, who's wrapped in his arms, warm inside.

"He's perfect, Ace."

"The last few nights beg to differ." She laughs. "But, yeah, he's fairly wonderful."

"You have to let me be part of this."

Something inside stirs. Anguish and the strange pull Logan's always had on her. She's so tired. "You are part of this. You're his dad. You're welcome whenever, and when he gets older he can even stay with you for periods, if you both want to."

"I don't just mean like that. I could get a place for the two of you. Wherever. Come there as often as possible, we could be like a family."

She looks at him perplexed. She's not really surprised at his words but out of practice in responding to the likes of them. "You're married, right?"

His expression responds before he does, he opens his mouth but she stops him. "It doesn't even matter."

She smiles and gives it another more constructive go. "Look, if you want to buy Richard an apartment or something when he's old enough I welcome that, but there's nothing you can do for me."

"Come on, I can help."

She imagines it for a fraction of a second. A place, no financial concerns. Then she imagines Jess out of her life, because there are no terms she could negotiate that would make him stay under those circumstances. That she knows. The sudden pain makes her speak.

"I already have help," she starts, but trails off as she finally gets it. Not help, he's not just helping, he's being part of the package, that's why he's pissed off when she thanks him. The last months flash before her eyes. Jess lingering, reluctant to leave her, helping her edit her manuscript, working out practicalities with Luke, on the phone with the publishing house, moving here, at Richards birth, running to the drugstore for the umpteenth time, reading up online, asleep with Richard on his chest, taking every other night watch, taking out the trash. There is no thanking him, that's the point. Her heart races and she wonders where he is during all of this.

"Shoot." She says out loud and exits the room on instinct walking into the living room. Logan follows her with Richard and looks at her intrigued. She stops, and turns back to face him.

"Sorry, I'm an idiot."

"I wouldn't go that far," he smiles. "Just let me do this for you."

She returns the smile and remembers why she's loved him for so long. "Thank you Logan, for the offer, and it's very generous of you to not think of me as an idiot, considering how stupid I've been." She takes a breath and struggles to look serious. "But not about this though. I'm right about this. Be a father to your son as much as you can be, but I'm fine. I have the package."

Logans smile drops. "You live with you mother, Ace."

It stings, but she remains calm. "Not for long. I'm moving in with Jess, our own place." She exaggerates. "Kind of."

"The garbage man?" Logan looks amused.

She hasn't been angry in a long time so she's taken aback when it hits her. She knows there's no use in fighting him. In her state of fatigue she'd get too upset and probably drag in things that doesn't even have anything to do with him.

"Logan," she starts. I have to make better choices from now on. I'm going to try to make it right, this way. You and me... It's always been a slippery slope. And I've really loved how you've made anything seem possible, but for us, it's never become more than a constant... possibility." As she speaks the words she feels them making sense. "And now I'm in this position where I really need to make just one thing more than possible. I need to make it real. I am sorry. I did this all wrong, for so long. But now when we were talking I realized it already is real. This one thing." She smiles to herself, submerged in the verbalizing of her feelings. "And that means that I've already made at least one good decision and that I can do this. I don't have to keep slipping." She turns her eyes back on Logan. "And he's not a garbage man," she adds firmly after a few beats. "You've met once. He's a writer, and publisher of appropriately lengthy novels, and my high school sweetheart... and current sweetheart, and not that there would be anything wrong with being a garbage man, it's honest work."

Now she processes Logan's expression. He's not happy.

"And it's all your decision I guess." He starts dully "You have our son but won't let me in the family. It's so messed up. This isn't what I wanted. And it's how I'll be forced to live my life now, 'cause of your choices."

She swallows hard trying to rid herself of the guilt bubbling up inside "I know I screwed up. And if I'd really thought about this earlier I would have done it all differently. I wouldn't have-" She stops herself from making it worse, takes an unsteady breath and tries again. "A child means an opportunity to be a parent and nothing more. You can't offer to make us your secondary family in one breath and then scorn me on the basis that I'm being unconventional when I reject it.

He looks defeated, turns his gaze on Richard, then back at her with shiny eyes. "I wanted this with you."

"I know."

"But that's it, right? You don't want this with me."

It's more complicated than that. It always has been, but she can't tell him that. It's a slippery slope.

"No."

"Fine," he says caustically and hands Richard back to her. "I'll call you when I'm next in the neighborhood. Might be a while though."

It hurts to see him angry, it's so rare, he's utterly unable to handle it well.

"Okay. Just... don't stay away because you're angry with me. I'm not forcing you to come around, but I know from experience that Richard will want you in his life. And if you pass up that opportunity for long enough that feeling might go away for him."

The look he shoots her is so bitter it cuts into her. He turns and walks out the front door. She follows him.

"Logan!"

But he exits the house and almost runs into Jess who's just taking the last steps up on the porch. They both stop. Logan looks Jess over and then back at her. She returns the look steadily. He turns and walks past Jess, brushing shoulders with him. Jess smiles coldly, jaws tight but keeps his eyes on the floor and makes his way to Rory.

"What's up with him?" He asks, while gently lifting Richard from her arms.

She wipes away a stray tear and clears her throat. "He'll get over it."

The way Jess looks at her lets her know she won't get off that easy.

"I told him to do the daddy-thing, but that I'm all set with the family-thing."

Jess' expression softens from obvious relief. He looks at Richard. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. He doesn't hold grudges. It's one of his best traits."

As Logan's car pulls out of the driveway she knows she's right about him. She feels slightly better and smiles to herself. Jess is quiet and she remembers her insight from earlier.

"Jess?" She turns to him. "You do make me happy, you know. But it's a different kind of happiness than what I'm used to. It's less about getting what I want and more about me feeling good about myself for the right reasons."

He looks startled.

"And I've been pretty dumb regarding your place in all of this." He opens his mouth as if to say something but she continues. "Here's the thing; you're this person I love, showing up and staying, in arguably my darkest hour. And it feels like this gift that I should be grateful for. But that's not what you're trying to be, is it? You're going for something with fewer strings attached, right?"

His gaze is earnest and familiar. "I don't have a choice."

"Well, I don't think that type of reliance comes naturally to either of us. But I understand it now. And I'm going to try to act like it."

He smiles tentatively. "You love me?"

She smiles back.

"Silly boy." She says, humorously, stroking his cheek. Guilt pinches her chest. For neglecting to tell him. For assuming that because he's done the things he has quietly, unyielding, he didn't need it. She drops the smile and locks eyes with him. "I love you."

He takes a visible breath, eyes darting between hers, nodding slightly. "Okay."

He leans in and kisses her, longer than usual, eyes closed. Steps closer and puts his forehead to hers. Richard whimpers between them and he pulls back.

"I packed up the boxes from the garage. We can go whenever you're ready."

"Great. I'll go change and we'll be off."

"Yeah?"

"Yes." She says.


	5. Chapter 5

[EMILY]  
It's Christmas Eve and they've just done away with dinner in the relatively cramped apartment. Richard is sitting on a blanket lined with protective pillows next to the easy chair keeping Emily. Her eyes are locked lovingly at the child who in turn is captivated by the ears on his stuffed bunny. She's not impressed by the apartment as expected, but is handling it a lot better than she would have a few years ago; No backhanded remarks, or offers to help upgrade them which apparently is equally rude even in the form of a kindness. She's actually proud of herself. It's harder to get with the program on her granddaughter's civil status. Her first memory of Jess is still quite animate and it bleeds into this older, more temperate version of him. He's generally quiet, polite, but eyes still unyielding, and the fact that he smiles so rarely, and that any charm he might possess is dimmed beneath her level of perception makes her uncomfortable. It's such a stark contrast to Rory, and Lorelai for that matter, even though the latter seems to have found a way of her own to relate to him. On the surface not much has changed, but there's warmth between them now, evident in casual touches and a slight increase in snark which they both seem to enjoy for some reason. It makes Emily feel a strange kind of loneliness. Like she's the only one outside the circle. She misses Richard. Big Richard, that is. Usually she doesn't feel vulnerable, but this evening, this place, these new relationships... She's grateful for Little Richard's presence, it anchors her to a purpose, a longing she can accept.

[LORELAI]  
Lorelai feels her mother's discomfort across the room of course, who's idea was this again? Right. Her very own, should have known that.

"It's an important ritual, Rory! You need to invite people for some sort of holiday celebration when you move someplace new. Until you do that it won't really be your home!"

What kind of crazy talk was that? How many cups of coffee had she had at that point? And Rory had listened to her! Had she learnt nothing through the years? She can just imagine her daughter coming home and telling her beau about that. She plays up different disasterous versions of the scene in her mind for funsies for a few seconds before accepting that the reality probably was much less dramatic, more pragmatic, involving some sort of weird bribe relating to Hemingway, or quite possibly just quiet acceptance from said beau. This is all her and Emily, right? Any idea that might seem obvious to her usually shrivels when in the floodlight gaze of Emily Gilmore. However, Rory seems unfaced by her grandmother's obvious contempt. Skipping about the kitchen, dancing to the music from the computer speakers, she and Jess crisscrossing around each other like only a live-in couple could in this small space, one picking out coffee cups, and another bowls and icecream. Lorelai glares at them. Be real hosts already and join the awkwardness! But Rory walks up to the coffee table with a tray filled with Chinaware, and then promptly gets on the floor next to Little Richard, instantly slipping into her parent-bubble, a place immune to all adult etiquette. Jess comes into the living room, which is really just an extension of the kitchen, puts the pot of coffee and carton of icecream on the table and moves over to Rory. Lorelai sees now that he too notices the stiffness of the situation. He looks more tense than usual and even a bit... oh my gosh, is that nervousness? He squats next to Rory and presses a discrete kiss to her temple, whispers something in her ear which makes her take notice; She turns her head to face him and smiles broadly. He gets up and walks towards the adjacent bedroom.  
"Care to share with the rest of the class?" Lorelai calls desperately. Jess turns and shoots her a somewhat strained smile.  
"Soon." He says while exiting the room.

[RORY]  
"I dug out a christmas tradition, I was gonna do it now." He whispers. She's stunned.  
Now she gets up and sits next to her mother, while Luke is busy pouring the coffee for everyone.  
"What's up?" Lorelai asks.  
"I don't really know," Rory responds. "We were talking about holiday traditions a couple of weeks back and I wanted him to share one of his." It's a slight adornment, it was a talk turned fight, really.  
"Well, it's Christmas tomorrow."  
"That's the point I think, he didn't wanna do anything with Liz around, but I also thought he didn't wanna do anything, period." She tries to remember his exact words at the time.

"You don't understand." He said when their conversation was escalating. "That thing you and your mom got; the wacky rituals you sustain together, you do that because you only have good memories between you – you wanna know what's between me and Liz? Pain, mostly, and denial. Our relationship works on the premise that we don't talk about the past. And reenacting some sad, old habit would definitely-" He took a sharp breath. "It wouldn't be good."  
He was obviously upset at that point, but she couldn't let it be.  
"But I want to know that stuff about you." She tried. "I want to understand."  
"You're better off not getting it. Don't you see that?"  
"When you're in a family you put in part of yourself. I'm sure there's something!"  
"Fine." He fumed, face dark from anger. "What do you feel like doing? We could invite a bunch of strangers over for a three day binge. Or we could go out to a bar and leave Richard in the corner next to that crazy lady who keeps talking to herself. Or better yet, let the neighbors take him for Christmas Eve and then forget about him 'til Boxing Day!"  
"Jess!" Her interruption was supposed to sound wronged but came out almost panicked. His face had changed at that, in an instant, all anger gone, replaced by regret.  
"I'm sorry." He pulled her into a hug. "God, I'm sorry. I'm so stupid."  
She'd stood there, buried in his arms, bitter by the loss, but relieved that the fight was over, so she'd just let it go.

"Jess is gonna introduce a Christmas tradition?" Lorelai repeats.  
"Seems like it."  
"With Emily present?"  
"Yup."  
"Boy, this is gonna be awkward."  
"There, there." She says, but has to admit that she's a bit nervous now.  
Jess comes back with an old duffel bag of his and puts it down next to his feet. He looks so lost that she has to fight the urge to run up and hold his hand through the whole thing, whatever it is. She captures his gaze instead and smiles at him. He takes a visible breath at this and clears his throat.  
"So, Rory and I were talking traditions and about maybe making some of our own, and technically, Christmas isn't until tomorrow, and this isn't really a tradition, because I don't think it lasted long enough to... I should have looked up the definition before. Hindsight's twenty-twenty, I guess."  
He's rambling. It's a first. Rory can't help a quick glance at Emily. She's sitting still, solemn, and Rory suddenly understands exactly what Lorelai means in her rants about what Emily projects even when she's doing nothing. While trailing the room she also observes Luke. He's anxious and she shoots him a helpless smile which he tries to return unsuccessfully. Jess continues.  
"Anyway, this was back when I was maybe seven. And Liz' boyfriend after her third husband-"  
"Roger," Luke fills in, eyes on Emily. "He was an entrepreneur-"  
"He was a screw-up, like the others." Jess interrupts him sternly, while they lock eyes and have one of their wordless power struggles. "But he was a kind man. He taught me card tricks, and would read to me, even long after he needed to. He was always sober on christmas eve, so we'd spend the night on the couch and he'd read sections from his favorite books to me. That went on for three years. Long enough for me to remember it was a thing."  
This is possibly the most Jess has ever spoken about his past in other terms than the generally bad, and the fact that she's sharing her life with him and never asked him about it in further detail shakes her. That's why she can't contain herself now.  
"Then what?"  
Luke answers.  
"He passed away."  
Jess steps in once more, apparently taking issue with Luke's beautification.  
"He went on a bender following New Year's and fell asleep in the snow."  
Her empathy takes over.  
"Jess!" She whimpers.  
"Rory!" He says firmly, maybe more so than intended, because he pauses for a moment. "Can I talk to you?"  
"You have the floor, young man," Emily says strictly. "You shouldn't excuse yourself when you do."  
"Mom!"  
"Grandma!" Lorelai and Rory protest in unison.  
"I'm sorry, Emily," Jess says steadily. "It'll just be a minute." He grabs Rory's hand and they walk in to the kitchen. He lowers his voice. "Rory, I need you to help me. I didn't do this for a group therapy session, I did it for you. Because you asked me to... contribute."  
"I didn't say you had to-" She starts.  
"Well, that was the implication; Bring something of yours. Only I don't really have anything appropriate to offer. But maybe this. Three lousy incidents more than twenty years ago. Except I can't do this, if you're falling apart at the same time. I can deal with Luke, he can't help himself when it comes to Liz, but you... I haven't even gotten to the point yet, and I feel like I just wanna tell everyone to get lost."  
"I'm sorry."  
"Look, I get it. It's a lot. Like everything else with us; we should have done this sooner. You were right, it is important, and I want you to understand. But I was... afraid that I couldn't go through with it if I didn't just-"  
She shushes him, and leads him by the hand back into the living room, lets go of him and sits down, leaving him in his former position. He frowns and scratches his head.  
"Where was I? Kind man, right. Grown man. And the books would be way over my head sometimes, but not always, and wildly inappropriate for my age mostly, but that was sort of the basis for their appeal. Anyhow, I thought I'd bring you books with marked sections to read. There's one for everyone, I wrote a name in the binder, and that's who it's for, but anyone can do the reading. If you wanna keep doing it, we'll make it different, better, next time. I just wanted to make sure there was something for everyone."  
Rory stares at him. She's both proud of him for having the guts to do this and skittish over how it will work out.  
"I'll start." He says. "My idea. It's only fair." He reaches into the bag and digs around until finally grasping a book and pulling it up. He smiles.  
"Great. This one is for Emily. It's Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman." He opens the book to the marked section and starts reading, while pacing slowly.

[EMILY]  
"'The birth is just the start. It's the upbringing that's important. It's the influences. Otherwise the child will never learn to use its powers.' He hesitated. 'At least, not necessarily as intended.'  
'Certainly our side won't mind me thwarting you,' said Aziraphale thoughtfully. 'They won't mind that at all.'  
'Right. It'd be a real feather in your wing.' Crowley gave the angel an encouraging smile.  
'What will happen to the child if it doesn't get a Satanic upbringing, though?' Said Aziraphale.  
'Probably nothing. It'll never know.'  
'But genetics-'  
'Don't tell me from genetics. What've they got to do with it?' Said Crowley. 'Look at Satan. Created as an angel, grows up to be the Great Adversary. Hey, if you're going to go on about genetics, you might as well say that the kid will grow up to be an angel. After all, his father was really big in Heaven in the old days. Saying he'll grow up to be a demon just because his father became one is like saying a mouse with its tail cut off will give birth to tailless mice.'"

Jess closes the book and hands it over to Emily. She accepts it while digesting the read words. Funny.  
"What's it about?" She asks with a small smile.  
"Nature versus nuture." He answers without missing a beat. "What you get and how you use it. It's your turn." He hands her the bag and sits down for the first time since dinner, right there on the floor next to Richard. Emily sighs but puts her hand down the bag pulling up the first book she comes across.  
"Surfacing by Margaret Atwood. For Lorelai." She reads. She takes a sip of coffee before opening the book at the bookmark.

"'How do you manage it?' I said.  
She stopped humming. 'Manage what?'  
'Being married. How do you keep it together?'  
She glanced at me quickly as though she was suspicious. 'We tell a lot of jokes.'  
'No but really,' I said. If there was a secret trick I wanted to learn it. She talked to me then, or not to me exactly but to an invisible microphone suspended above her head: people's voices go radio when they give advice. She said you just had to make an emotional commitment, it was like skiing, you couldn't see in advance what would happen but you had to let go. Let go of what, I wanted to ask her; I was measuring myself against what she was saying.  
Maybe that was why I failed, because I didn't know what I had to let go of. For me it had been like jumping off a cliff. That was the feeling I had all the time I was married; in the air, going down, waiting for the smash at the bottom."

She looks at her daughter who meets her eyes, and smiles.  
"Thanks mom." She says for no real reason.  
"You're gonna love this, mom!" Rory says, almost bouncing on the couch. "Atwood is amazing!" She looks at Jess and smiles brightly at him. He returns the look with such warmth that Emily has to swallow before speaking.  
"You're welcome, Lorelai."  
As she passes Lorelai the book and the bag, Richard starts crying, tired of his predicament on the floor. She reaches for him and almost collides with Jess who's also aiming to pick him up. Their heads are close, and Emily is caught off guard by it. He smiles.  
"Go on. You take him."  
"Really?"  
"Absolutely. I do this every day, it's good to get a break.  
She smiles back and picks up Richard who calms down once he's in her lap. He leans back against her and she buries her nose in his downy blonde hair, heart soaring.

[LORELAI]  
Lorelai watches the interaction with raised eyebrows. The vibe off Emily is different following it. Comfortable.  
She digs through the bag and grabs hold of a book that looks suspicously like it belongs in a library. She glares at Jess.  
"Don't look at me!" He says, hands up. "It's Roger's old copy. He had sticky fingers and strange taste."  
"The Medusa Frequency. Russell Hoban." She opens the cover. "It's for you, Luke." She seats herself facing him, clears her throat and reads:

"'Why are you telling me your story?'  
'I am that which responds,' said the head. 'I've told you that. You said yes three times and I was compelled to tell my story.'  
'Before I said yes three times you asked me three times if I wanted to hear the story.'  
'Well, it's a story that wants to be told, isn't it.'  
'And you made me take it on me that the story would be finished,' I said. 'Why did you do that?'  
'The story is different every time,' said the head, 'and every time there are difficulties – I always need help with it and I'm always afraid it won't go all the way to the end.'  
'Different each time. How can that be?'  
'How can it not be? A story is a thing that changes as it finds new perceptions, new ideas.'  
'Fallok was trying to do it with music,' I said. 'How far did he get?'  
'Not very.'  
'What do you think my chances are?'  
'I don't know,' said the head. 'But if you can't do it there'll be somebody else.'  
'You mean if we can't do it.'  
'Yes of course. Didn't I say we?'  
'No, you didn't. Why do you have to keep going through the story over and over?'  
'It's got to come out differently one day,' said the head."

Lorelai finishes and looks at Luke. Luke in turn looks a Jess.  
"This made you think of me?"  
"I didn't say the sections had anything to do with anyone, did I? But yes, for several reasons."  
"What possible reasons-?"  
"Read the book. Figure it out."  
Richard whimpers in Emily's lap. Jess and Rory both stand up.  
"I'll get him ready for bed," Jess says. "You're up next. You should listen."  
Rory agrees by silently sitting down again while Jess picks up Richard and exits the room. Luke reaches into the duffel bag, and pulls out what appears to be the last book.  
"Mouth to Mouth" Luke reads. "By Nina Lekander." He opens the book to the marked page and continues:

[RORY]  
"Longing is the most horrendous of emotions because it's imprinted by incapacity and unreality. Incapacity, since the object of your thoughts is absent and untouchable instead of acting, willing, handable, subject. Unreality, since the object of your thoughts is absent and untouchable instead of acting, willing, handable, subject. Incapacity, because it's so unreal. Unreal, because it's so incapacitated. Incapacity because you've become nothing but completely insane. Unreal, because it's so inexplicable that you can't be anything but an effing lunatic. Because, or in spite of so many people's huge, echoing longing there are few forms of expression or rituals that serve as vents for it, and its subsequent rage. A temporary and pretty decent substitute, is rock music. Concerts in particular."

Luke shakes his head, and hands over the book to Rory. She smiles, mostly to herself.  
"Thank you, Luke." She says, and turns to look at Jess who's standing in the doorway watching, holding a very sleepy Richard in clean pj's. "There's no book for you." She remarks.  
"Huh." He says.  
She smiles secretively.  
"What?"  
"Just wait." She says and runs into the bedroom. She pulls out a shopping bag from a corner that's filled with Christmas presents, stuffed in with them is the proof of her book, which she picked up yesterday, but hasn't had time to adress to anyone. She flips through the it to find the right passage. She takes a deep breath and feels her heartbeat pick up.  
"Okay." She says to herself and walks back into the living room.  
Jess sees what's in her hands and protests.  
"Oh no! What are you gonna read?"  
He tries to take the book from her but is hindered by the baby in his arms, she easily out-manouevers him.  
"Don't be silly. They'll read it eventually anyway. And I did a re-write, which you didn't edit! Don't assume you know everything."  
He steps back and leans against the wall, silently consenting.  
"Gilmore Girls, by Rory Gilmore. For Jess." She gulps and reads:

"He was like a force of nature. But not the kind you usually picture when you use that expression. More like earth than a storm, tsunami or fire or something like that, even though my mother would have described him in any of those ways if given the opportunity. Although being with him had been like standing on hot asphalt at times, the fight was a quake removing the ground from under me completely. I was held up by mom and momentum. And while most of me moved on without second thoughts, a part of me needed him back in order to recover."  
She looks up at him. He looks a bit concerned.  
"Is that it?"  
She smiles at him.  
"No way, mister." She purrs.  
He laughs.  
"I hope not. I'd like a kinder description."  
"It gets better." She hands him the book.  
"You two are nauseating." Lorelai whines. She gets up and walks over anyway, throwing her arms around them both. "Thanks for tonight. Thanks for the books and the tradition, Jess. We should go. Big day tomorrow."  
Luke and Emily gets up as well.  
"We'll come with you for a walk." Rory says. "Richard likes to fall asleep in his pram, and I wanna look at the lights."

They wrap up Richard in his sliding bag, put on their winter coats and head out in the December night. The town square is white with snow and Christmas lights. Rory turns to Lorelai.  
"Can you take Richard around the square? I wanna look at the lights with my boyfriend."  
"Sure, kid."  
She walks off in the opposite direction as soon as Lorelai has hold of the handle, her palm stretched towards him behind her body. As she feels his hand close around hers she reels him in, wrapping him around her.  
"I thought you wanted to see the lights."  
"Isn't that what I'm doing?"  
"You are such a dork."  
She just looks at him enamoured. He shifts his weight.  
"Can you stop looking at me like that?"  
"Okay. Do you really want me to stop?"  
"No."  
"You're pretty when you smile."  
"Shut up."  
"Make me."

When they go to bed that night they lie with their heads close together whispering a conversation. More of a series of monologues really, interupted by her kisses, tears and apologies. He doesn't cry. He's relieved. To open the flood gates. To be strong enough to comfort her. That's a big thing, he's holding her and being held, and can't believe he denied them this for so long.


End file.
